


a team, and a family

by NerdsLikeUs



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Light Angst, Philinda Secret Santa, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 04:58:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9419765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NerdsLikeUs/pseuds/NerdsLikeUs
Summary: Set in season 2, post Daisy revealing what May did in Bahrain. The three of them try to figure out how to move forward.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For @cateliot on tumblr for Philinda Secret Santa 2016 :)

Phil’s face is smudged in the mirror. Steam obscures his features; dark lines softened, dark eyes blurred. He can’t see anything clearly.  
His chin is thick with shaving cream. He tries to keep his hand steady as he drags the razor across.  
_We don’t owe each other anything._  
He flinches, and a spot of red leaks its edges into the surrounding white.  
“Damn it,” he mutters as the nick begins to sting. Giving up on shaving, Phil turns on the tap, and cups handfuls of cold water onto his face. When it is dripping and clean, he looks up again at his reflection.  
_Our ancient ancestors called themselves Inhumans, and we just want to be left alone._  
_We?_  
Phil’s face is still blurred in the mirror. He is sick of not seeing things clearly.  
Striking out, he grabs the towel at his side and swipes ferociously at the glass. A clear streak runs across the mirror, leaving only his chin and one eyebrow in the fog. The towel drops to the floor as he leans heavily on the sink. For a moment, it is just too much.  
_You mean a lot to me. A lot._  
How quickly things changed.  
Glaring at the mirror and the cut on his jaw, Phil pushes away from the sink and heads out the door.

May is in the common room, making tea. She waits for the kettle to boil, trying not to picture the hatred in Skye's eyes.  
_You of all people should know ... what they’re so afraid of._  
Her hand is steady as she pours the water into a smooth round cup. She feels the heat seep through the ceramic under her fingers, warming slowly until it burns. She doesn't take her fingers away.  
_You wanna tell me what Theta Protocol is?_  
_No._  
She shuts her eyes tightly for a moment, feeling the squeezing ache in her chest. When had the ones she considered family become strangers?  
_Keeping her in the dark won’t end well._  
She knows he's come in without turning around. Coulson may be a secret agent, but he'd never been able to sneak up on her.  
Maybe he'd never wanted to.  
Phil hesitates at the door, but enters, quietly. Her back is still to him when she says, “Can I help you, Director?”  
It's the first time she's called him that when they've been alone, and she can almost hear his puppy-dog eyes. But she's sick of it, this pretending-to-be-friends when all they've ever really been is colleagues, and she doesn't want to pretend anymore.  
(She won't let herself think that maybe _this_ is the pretending, not the rest of it; won't let herself remember her own words - _back then, our boundaries were clear_ \- because what does that mean for their boundaries now? It is easier, she tells herself, much easier to just be partners - or, as it is now, Director and the agent he does not trust.)  
"May," he says, then hesitates. She does not try to fill his silence - that, at least, has not changed.  
_Besides, if I let you write the scripts, no one would say anything._  
“I don’t want to intrude,” he says.  
“Public area,” she replies, still focusing on her tea.  
He is silent for long enough that she finishes pouring and is forced to turn around. In an attempt at casualness, she leans slightly on the bench, blowing the steam off the surface of her drink. He is looking at her, eyes pinched.  
“Have ... have you spoken to Skye?”  
She pauses with the cup halfway to her lips. “No.”  
“She’s about to go. I’m on my way to escort her and Lincoln off the base.”  
“I know.”  
“May ...”  
_Melinda ..._  
“Skye doesn’t want to talk to me, Phil.” The words are out before she can swallow them, and they scald as much as the too-hot tea. “She made that very clear.”  
“If you just explained – ”  
“There’s nothing to explain. Her mother told her everything. Now she knows, and so do you. What else is there to say?” May tries to keep the bitterness out of her voice. She can tell by Coulson’s face that she failed.  
He takes a step towards her, almost pleading. It wrenches her heart even more – despite the lying, despite the distrust, despite their broken friendship – she does not want to hurt him. And she can tell this hurts him, the ever-growing fractures in the team.  
_The girl ... She didn’t understand ... I couldn’t save her._  
Before he can speak again, she sets down her mug and straightens. “There will never be a world where I do not want to protect that girl,” she says, eyes never leaving his. “But Skye has made her own decisions. They are her family now. And both of us have to accept that.”  
She leaves him in the kitchen, heartbroken next to her still-steaming tea.

Skye and Coulson sit in his office, drinking the scotch he used to drink with May. Skye has never really liked it, but she drinks it willingly now, the burn matching her aching heart, the smell reminding her of late nights on the Bus, May and Coulson on the couch in the dark after a much too long day.  
May is gone now, left for a holiday after too many long days, and Skye feels her absence more than that of her parents.  
_I hope your mother is everything you want her to be._  
Skye remembers the ache in May’s eyes, and won’t let herself think that maybe she’d had everything she’d ever wished for but been too busy looking for it to realise.  
Coulson breaks the silence, setting down his glass. “I think we should talk.”  
“About the new team?”  
“About May.”  
Skye feels the sharpness of recent loss in her stomach, and feels like swearing and crying and yelling at Coulson until he just shuts up and lets her drink.  
_I’m furious. But I'm sure as hell not gonna waste it on a tantrum._  
She takes two breaths, deep into that sharpness, and says, “Okay.”  
Coulson has concern in his eyes, deep and honest. “She’s on leave now. But it won’t be – I hope it won’t be – permanent. What Jiaying told you, about what May did in Bahrain ... If – _when_ – May comes back ... will you be able to work with her?”  
_After you change, no one else will understand. They’ll be afraid._  
“I ...” she hesitates, words and scotch burning on her tongue.  
_I’m sorry May, but you’re not welcome here._  
She whispers, finally, throat and heart aching. “I don’t think she’ll want to be around _me_.”  
Coulson stays silent, waiting as Skye tries to keep herself together. She swallows, and breathes, and keeps her eyes shut tight, focusing on the pain in her arm and her heart and her bruises to remind herself that she is still alive and fighting.  
_I’m gonna make it right._  
Coulson’s gentle arm slides around her shoulders. He pulls her closer, holds her tightly until the loss of two mothers and a father comes swelling out of her in wracking sobs.  
_You’re having one hell of a day, huh?_  
“I can’t speak for May,” Coulson says, arm still holding her safe. “But I can’t imagine a world in which she would ever stop wanting to protect you.”  
_I don’t want to hurt you._  
_Help me fix this._  
Skye isn’t sure whether that makes her feel better or worse. But him saying it makes her sure, somehow, somewhere deep in her bones, that it is true.  
She stays in Coulson’s office late, and decides that hugs are better than alcohol.


End file.
